"Bobby?"
At this time Robert Goren was not thinking about the case at hand: a murder that had occurred at one of Manhattan's richest socialite's dinner parties. He was not concentrating on his brother's recent gambling spree or alcohol abuse, or the nephew he had literally put his job on the line for months before. He was not even thinking about the woman across from him, although thoughts of that nature often crossed his mind these days as they worked together feverishly on the case.
In fact, the only particular thing he was concentrating on right now was his sandwich, filled with deli meats, pickles, spicy mustard, and a sprinkling of tomatoes clasped between two parts of an Italian baguette.
"Bobby?"
He looked up at his partner as he took a bite, taking in her inquisitive gaze for only a second before his taste palate got the better of him. Mmmm…he mused, closing his eyes to fully comprehend the flavors that were swirling together in his mouth, a mixture of the pastrami and the dill, the yellow and the red and the honey colored golden that was his lunch. In that moment a deep contented moan sounded from his throat as he savored and then a gentle hum as he swallowed.
"Bobby!"
And the woman on the other side of the paired desks was intent on distracting him.
He put the six-incher down and sat up after brushing his lips with a napkin.
"Yes, Eames?"
"Someone's on the phone for you…says they know something about Ellen Garner's whereabouts the night of Paige's death." Looking back down at his sandwich dreamily, he resigned to the fact that today's lunch was going to have to be put aside for later pleasure. "I could always tell them to call back if that is occupying more than five minutes of your time?"
"I, um, no…I'll take it now."
With that he reached towards his desk phone and dialed the number 9.
…….
He's too quiet, she thought as she watched him begin to communicate with a person on the lower end of MC's totem pole. He was never this passive before…before the suspension.
Alexandra Eames was chewing on a bit of something herself, although she found it less savory than her counterpart's sandwich- that something just happened to be the over two hundred pounds of suit and muscle who was chatting nonchalantly over the phone and her suspicion that not everything was as all right with Goren as he was letting on.
Their relationship had always been an interesting one. He was the often referred to as the Sherlock to her Watson, so to speak, the brain with the grounded…a reference that she admittedly did not like very much. "It makes me sound like the sidekick," she had complained to Bobby once before.
"You are hardly a sidekick Eames," he replied, then going off into a beaten up and obviously over-read paperback copy of Crime and Punishment. Far from popular belief, Bobby only made long winded references during cases or when gathering information…
…Eames knew that because of the other side of their relationship, the kindred spirit side. They talked about things that most partners of two years wouldn't dream of revealing, mainly because their excellent record of companionship spanned more than seven. Through work and through at first reluctant but constantly expanding friendship they began to know things about each other's personal lives: family, loves, losses…and in so doing they became part of each other's real worlds.
So even though they were partners they were also in a strange way linked as close and best friends.
That is, until Robert Goren left his badge behind him for a three month long inquisition and suspension.
One day she had seen him in the hospital. His face was pale and tight from the dehydration he had endured at the hands of other badges. His lips were chapped and bleeding. He was hooked up to an IV in the Intensive Care Unit for close observation.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to comfort him even in his dreams that everything would be okay, that the nightmares would cease. But keeping a professional distance she watched his eyelids flicker and pucker and tense with each thought as he was drugged with sedatives. So she walked towards to door to make her exit.
I might as well have sealed the door on that chapter of our lives. She took another look at her partner, who was now turned away and deep in conversation. He had essentially kept that door closed by not responding to her calls to check up on him, or by ignoring her invitations for lunch under the guise that she needed help for whatever current case. And when the brass finally came to their senses and let him back on probation, a quarter of a year had gone by and he'd changed.
Sure he'd been friendly and kind, apologizing for not returning her calls, saying he had "family issues"…but that was it. There was no more reading between the lines. He hadn't let her in since. As far as their relationship went, he was just her partner. The familiarity was gone.
Oddly enough, it was the familiarity she had missed. The familiarity was what she continued to miss.
And right then and there, she decided that she wasn't going to let herself miss it any longer-
"Goren! Eames!"
For that moment, both of their musings had to be put aside.